Hunted and Hated
An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own X-Men.
Chapter 8: Stealing to Survive
(A/N: The opening of this chapter is a lot cooler if you listen to the theme from the "Van Helsing" movie while you're reading it!)
It was a clear night.
The stars shone down from the heavens and twinkled like tiny diamonds against the black velvet sky, and the moon's soft, dim light bathed the land in its eerie glow, and one could make out the silhouetted forms of two fugitives as they continued their flight.
The thunderous pounding of hooves beat a frenzied tattoo against the dusty ground, and the whinny of horses was clearly audible as Kitty and Kurt spurred their steeds to greater efforts. The horses, by the way, had been "borrowed" from a nearby breeder, who probably wouldn't notice their absence until dawn. Kitty had been reluctant to resort to stealing, but it was common knowledge that Spanish horses could outrun anyone, even the feared forces of the Inquisition. And, Kurt had pointed out, a stolen horse and a guilty conscience were preferable to whatever grisly demise the Church had in store for them.
Thus it was that Kitty and Kurt continued to flee Sanchez's wrath, traveling south in the hope of crossing the Portuguese border into France. Kurt's midnight-black stallion tossed its head and neighed loudly, and Kitty had to strain to keep pace with him. Her hood and cloak, stolen in passing from a clothesline, billowed out behind her, and her still-injured ankle twinged every time the saddle bounced. The countryside sped by her in a green blur, and her horse snorted with exertion as it galloped faster, ever faster, through the silent forest.
Kurt glanced at her. "How is your ankle, Kitty?"
"It hurts," she admitted, "but it should be fine soon."
Kurt fixed his golden eyes ahead. "Dawn is only a few hours away. We can rest once the sun rises."
Kitty nodded. Her friend had insisted on traveling only at night, as there were fewer people awake in the twilight hours, and thus fewer people who could point the Inquisition in the right direction. It had, she reflected, worked very well so far; there had been no sign of Sanchez or his men since the night they'd razed her house.
A pang of anger and sorrow shot through Kitty's chest like an arrow, but she banished it just as quickly. That life was closed to her now, and there was no changing the past. For better or worse, she and Kurt were in this together.
A loud rumble caused Kurt to glance around in alarm, and Kitty blushed with embarrassment.
"Are you hungry?" Kurt's voice was full of concern.
"Yes," Kitty said, knowing there was no point in denying it. "I could manage something to eat."
"I will ride ahead and acquire something," Kurt promised her, and his horse galloped ahead at an impossible speed.
Kitty felt a little uncomfortable. She knew full well what Kurt meant, and it made her somewhat conflicted. He was going to steal something edible, perhaps a loaf of bread off a windowsill, or grapes from a vineyard. Kitty had never stolen before in her life. She had never needed to, with a successful sewing business that kept her purse full. But now her shop lay in ruins, and Kitty didn't have a single coin to her name.
She didn't want to starve, but at the same time, her conscience nagged at her for what she and Kurt were doing. Although, in fairness to Kurt, he only stole from people who could afford it, the nobles and merchants who kept their summer homes in these parts. Even Kurt would not steal from a housewife with three children to feed, and for that Kitty was enormously grateful.
With nothing else to do, she slowed her horse to a trot. Kurt would find her when his questionable errand was finished. He always did, though Kitty had no idea how.
Farther up ahead…
Kurt left his horse tied up behind a large tree, and his senses were on high alert as he surveyed the wealthy villa before him. Everything about it spoke of its owner's affluence: the fancy colonnade that supported its tiled roof, the cherubs that spewed water into the large fountain, and the marble pathway that led to an elaborate set of double doors. He had done this many times before, too many times to count; with all the stealth and grace of a panther he slipped past the sleeping guard dog and behind the walls that encircled the estate. Kurt allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction. These walls were more for decoration that protection, for they were barely tall than Kurt himself. A hefty jump vaulted him over the bricks, and his furry feet didn't make a sound as they made contact with the soft grass.
Kurt immediately took shelter behind a large, conical shaped garden tree, his twitching tail the only hint of the adrenaline and anxiety that flowed through his veins. A quick peek around the tree's branches, and Kurt assured himself that the obscenely oversized garden was indeed abandoned. He stepped out onto the path-
-And immediately ducked back behind the tree as two men exited the villa, through a small door to the right. Kurt silently kicked himself. He should have noticed that!
The Spaniards were obviously deep in conversation, wealthy by the look of their clothes, and Kurt could catch snatches of their talk as they strolled aimlessly about.
"Well, I for one won't be letting my children out at night, with that foul creature out and about!" the first man, fat and crimson-faced, declared. "Do you know he was spotted only recently in Zaragoza?"
The second nobleman, skinny and horse-faced, balked at this. "Surely you jest, Alfonse! I have a cousin who lives near there!"
"I am dead serious, Hernando," Alfonse replied. "And it seems one of the townsfolk there has been swayed to his evil."
"Who?" Hernando's jaw dropped. "I have been to Zaragoza several times on business. They are all good Christians there!"
"Catherine Pryde," Alfonse answered. "The seamstress."
"It cannot be!" Hernando exclaimed. "Why, I placed an order just last week with her! And she comes from such a good family, too…"
"Yes, her father saw combat against the Moors," Alfonse said sadly. "And her mother is a good and faithful wife. I even met the girl a few years ago, you know. Her father and I are old friends, and he invited me to dine with his family while I was in town. She was so cheerful and bright, Hernando. I find it inconceivable that such a sweet young woman can be swayed by the Devil."
"And what has her father done about all this?"
"Would you believe the old man sent me a letter just a few days past? The poor soul's heartbroken."
Hernando scowled. "He has not disowned her?"
"No," Alfonse sighed. "Though his pain is great, he is incapable of renouncing his own daughter, despite what has become of her…"
The sounds of speech grew fainter as the two men walked deeper into the garden, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief and shame. Relief, that he had not been discovered.
Shame, that he had unknowingly brought such grief to Kitty's loved ones.
Kurt cleared his head. There would be time to feel guilty later. Right now, his main objective was the acquisition of tonight's meal…
Meanwhile…
Kitty tried hard to concentrate on something other than her ravenous hunger. Nothing worked, and her belly growled like an angry thunderstorm in its pleas for nourishment. She actually felt somewhat ashamed, for Kurt had likely been on the brink of starvation more than once in his travels! He seemed able to run on very little in the way of food, while she, a sheltered country girl, felt starving only a few hours after her last meal!
It made Kitty feel weak, and the thought drove her crazy.
Something snapped in the bushes, and Kitty instinctively whistled for her horse, but panic turned to unabashed relief as Kurt stepped out of the darkness, a large sack nestled over his shoulder.
"Is all of that food?" Kitty asked, trying hard to keep the hope from her voice.
"No," Kurt shook his furry head, a grim smile on his face. "I brought enough food to last us until tomorrow."
"Then why is that sack so full?" Kitty was confused.
In answer, Kurt upended the burlap bag, and Kitty felt horror suffuse her body.
Several loaves of bread, some flasks of wine, and a canteen of water lay strewn upon the ground, along with-
-Weapons.
Lots and lots of weapons.
"What are those for?" Kitty whispered.
Kurt's tone was determined. "We weren't prepared when Sanchez torched your home and tried to kill me. We had nothing to defend ourselves with. But I'd sooner burn at the stake myself than let the Inquisition catch us napping again. If that happens…" Kurt's voice broke. He didn't even want to think what horrific treatment his friend would suffer at the hands of the sadistic Captain Sanchez.
Kitty cast a curious eye over the mound of steel. There was a basket-hilted sword with a broadly curved blade, and a second sword, too, but different than the first: this weapon had a shining, double-edged blade, and forward- and backward-curving quillons served to protect the hand. The sword's handle was made of ivory, and it was apparent that it was Islamic in origin, obviously a trophy taken from the battlefield. There were also several types of daggers, and an assortment of pistols of varying sizes. Kurt claimed the other sword for himself, buckling it around his waist with an almost unnatural ease.
"Teach me."
Kurt turned to face her, and the scabbard bounced slightly against his hip. "What?"
"Teach me how to fight," Kitty said. "If the worst happens, I do not intend to let the Inquisitors capture me without a fight. And I do not want you to shoulder all of this by yourself," she added, remembering the wounds Kurt had sustained that first fateful night. "I want to learn."
Kurt grinned, and his fangs glittered in the moonlight. "Okay," he said. "Then your lesson starts now…"
A/N: Hey guys! I'm back, and I apologize for not updating sooner, but my grandparents came to visit me over the weekend and I wanted to spend some time with them. ^^ Anyway, I thank you all for your patience, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon! And for those of you who haven't been in the loop, I am proud to say that this is the first of THREE historical KURTTY fics that I am planning to write, each set in a different time and place! So don't be discouraged when this story has come to a close, because there are other tales that have yet to be told! Finally, as always, PLEASE REVIEW! I would welcome any and all constructive criticism or ideas on how I can make this story better, so if YOU have any suggestions, I would LOVE to hear them!
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque